excess
by helium lost
Summary: [The Great Gatsby] There is a reason why Gatsby hates alcohol. Expanding a scene that was merely glossed over in the novel.


**excess  
**. helium lost .

**Author's Notes:** Written for English class :) I rather like the way this one came out. Deals with Dan Cody and Gatsby, and why exactly Gatsby was put off alcohol by Dan Cody. I think all in all, it took me about an hour, an hour and a half to write this? Anyway, there's been minor editing, so if you find a mistake, don't hesitate to point it out to me XD

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The yacht rocked in the placid waters not too far from a beach which was foreign to him but familiar to Dan Cody. Outside, the white moon shone on as the stars sparkled, a million flecks of diamond dust splattered across the great, dark canvas that was the night sky. Jay sighed as he leaned against the railing, his elbows against the smooth, cold metal, his face resting in his palms. Behind him was the yellow glow of the cabin. Raucous laughter and shrill giggling wafted out from behind the closed door, accompanied by Dan Cody's slurred baritone voice. 

The sound and music exploded behind him as the door was thrown open. He heard the sound of a couple footsteps echoing against the metal of the deck before a pair of slender arms wound themselves around him like a pair of snakes, and he became aware of the curves of a woman's body pressed against him, her chin resting against his shoulder. He stiffened, but continued to look forward. He could faintly smell the alcohol on her breath and she stood there, slumped over him. She lifted her right arm, and he felt her chin shift as she grinned.

" Champagne, Jay?" she suggested in a low, husky voice that tickled his ear. Flecks of foam were fizzing up from the champagne, tiny bits of lava erupting from a golden volcano. He wrinkled his nose, disgusted, and said nothing.

"No thank you," he replied after a pause. She laughed, and the noise grated against his ears. She shook the bottle, and a splash of champagne thrust itself out of the bottle and soaked the shoulder of his coat. She pressed her face up close to his until her skin, slick with sweat from the heat inside the cabin, rubbed up against his. He shut his eyes and hid his grimace.

"Come on," she murmured in his ear. "You're always talking about how you want to have big, elaborate parties, filled with lavish decorations, brimming over with guests from all parts. And you won't even join us for a single drink?"

Jay remained silent. She tugged on his arm and pulled him toward the door.

"Come on."

Jay frowned and complied, following her in. He was immediately assaulted by the sticky air of drinks and merrymaking: the orchestra in one corner, the people lounging like corpses across the chairs, the glittering white frosting of the cakes piled high in one corner…

The rest of the night passed in a golden blur: her arms joined by those of others, all wound around him; the glasses of champagne being offered to him—all of which he declined. With their voices ringing of glass and bubbling over with the golden droplets of alcohol, they leaned onto him, almost like a strange courtship dance. When he declined the champagne for what seemed to be the fiftieth time, they simply laughed and raised the champagne glasses high—then tipped them over onto him, showering his shining blond hair with the detested alcohol. They wound their worm-like fingers into his hair and rubbed in the sparkling droplets, laughing all the while, as if they were playing with a perfect little doll.

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Four o'clock found Jay in the darkness, picking up after the guests that had stumbled out drunkenly, threatening to topple over from the deck into the water. Dan Cody had passed out on the floor, hidden beneath a few empty bottles of champagne. Jay sighed, ran a hand through his drenched hair, then pulled up Dan Cody's unconscious body and dragged it into the bathroom. He propped his body against the wall, then turned on the faucet of the bathtub and let it run. As he waited for the water to heat up, he turned back to Dan Cody. 

Flecks of saliva and other unidentifiable substances had dried on his collar, and he reeked of alcohol. Jay wrinkled his nose, then took a sponge and held it under the running water, dampening it. He frowned as he pulled off Dan Cody's sweat-drenched clothing and ran the sponge over his old body. The white moonlight cascaded into the bathroom and pooled onto the floor, forming puddles of white light that provided the only source of illumination in the room. Jay squeezed out the sponge, then ran it again under the water and mopped off Dan Cody's face and body, then briefly ran Dan Cody's head under the water and rinsed off his hair. He shut off the faucet with a squeak, then got up to go to the closet. His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he rummaged around in the dark and pulled out a set of pajamas that he awkwardly pulled onto Dan Cody's still-unconscious body.

He took in a deep breath, then heaved Dan Cody's body up over his shoulders and staggered over to the bedroom. He caught himself before he stumbled, then let Dan Cody fall onto the plush mattress of his bed. He pulled the bed sheets over him—encasing him and wrapping him snugly, as if he were wrapping him in a shroud—then left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

He stepped back into the lounge, which glittered with the lamplight and the moonlight, and narrowly avoided stepping into a small pool of putrid-smelling vomit. The heavily embroidered coverings of the chair seats were pock-marked with yellow champagne stains, and glasses were tipped over on the beautiful mahogany tables. The chandelier was dark, but the moonlight caught the shards of glass and made them shine, as if they were diamonds.

Jay picked up an upright bottle from the table, then, letting it dangle from two fingers, wound it around in little circles, watching as the liquid inside formed a swirling tornado. It could be beautiful, if the lamplight caught it just right, made the fizz shine like threads of molten gold. It could be beautiful, if the moonlight caught it just right, made each drop shine like the finest pearls that money could buy.

It could be beautiful, he thought as he threw the bottle against the wall, listening with satisfaction as it broke with the sound of bells into a million tiny pieces that glittered as they fell, staining the room with green and gold.

**

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**Author's Notes:** You know, after I presented this, my English teacher pointed out that I had a lot of water imagery. I mean, I knew I'd incorporated some—light "cascading" in through windows is one of my favorites—but I didn't realize that I had so much (faucets, tubs, sponges, drops, etc.). And, come to think of it, my other one (the one that I didn't present) made a lot of use of water imagery, too. He interpreted it as showing Gatsby's "formlessness" and his development, which I thought was interesting. :)


End file.
